Over the weekend, I visited The Hipster. (Who, by the way, is now famous because yesterday she was Freshly Pressed.) If you read The Hipster’s FP post, you may be wondering if I noticed her award and magnet.
Instead my gaze was fixed on a box in her kitchen. The box had two slots in the top of it and a wire that snaked out the back of it.
What the heck is that, I thought.
It looked like a mutant snake with an oversized rectangle head and two mouths. I wasn’t sure if rectangular-headed snakes were poisonous, so I poked at it with a wooden spoon.
I picked it up with both hands and gave it a little Christmas present shake. Still nothing.
I was just about to stick my finger in the snake’s mouth when the Hipster came into the kitchen. Before I could even ask her about the beast, she whipped out a shiny package: Pop-Tarts. After opening them, she dropped them into the rectangle-headed snake.
My jaw dropped. I had to fight back the tears. She was just teasing me by waving those frosted strawberry Pop-Tarts around.
Questions began racing through my mind: What had I done to offend the Hipster so? Why did she hate me? What kind of a cruel trick was she pulling?
My thoughts were interrupted by the strange beast regurgitating the Pop-Tarts. Ewww. Then the Hipster handed me the Pop-Tarts.
Phew…she didn’t hate me.
Of course I can’t resist Pop-Tarts…even regurgitated ones…so I immediately devoured them.
They were warm. They were divine. They were toasted Pop-Tart goodness.